


Veterans Benevolent Association

by backtoblack101



Series: Some May Condemn These Vile Affections [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtoblack101/pseuds/backtoblack101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy finds out from a friend that there are some places in New York her and Angie can go dancing without turning heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veterans Benevolent Association

**Author's Note:**

> The Veterans Benevolent Association was an organization for LGBT veterans of the United States armed forces founded in New York City in 1945.

Angie quite enjoyed cleaning. Not the way her Ma liked cleaning mind you. Her Ma could get up at six in the morning and do nothing but clean and cook until she went to bed at ten that night. Angie wasn’t like that, she wasn’t crazy. She still liked tidiness though and she enjoyed the satisfaction of taking a particularly difficult stain off one of the gas rings of the cooker (Mr. Jarvis had recommended white vinegar and now Angie swore by the stuff), or wiping the windowsill and watching specks of dust dance in the sunlight in front of her.

She also quite enjoyed the way Peggy teased her for it, not that it’s something she’d ever admit to.

Today she was giving the drawing room a thorough dust (when Mr. Stark had done the place up in neo-classical style he obviously hadn’t accounted for the cleaning that would involve), swaying in time to the music that crooned out over the radio while she wiped down the mantelpiece, when Peggy got home.

She didn’t hear her at first; after a day on her feet Peggy liked to toe off her heels the second she got through the door and her stocking clad feet against the oak floors were often completely silent. After so many months of living together however Angie could sense Peggy’s presence in a room, and without turning away from her dusting she addressed her girlfriend.

“Don’t you dare try’n scare me.” She liked to think her ability to sense Peggy’s presence would impress the secret agent, though if it did Peggy didn’t let it show.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied not missing a beat and continuing her slow approach on Angie. “I was simply admiring you,” she added, her eyes shamelessly following the sway of Angie’s hips as the radio transitioned into ‘Five Minutes More’ by Frank Sinatra.

“Just admirin’, sure,” Angie scoffed, still not turning even when Peggy’s strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“Mhm,” Peggy insisted, matching the rhythm of her own hips to Angie’s, both of them now swaying slowly on the spot. “I was marvelling at how lucky I got having someone like you to come home to every evening.” She rested her head on Angie’s shoulder when she spoke and her breath tickled Angie’s neck.

“When you say ‘come home to’ it makes me sound like a kept woman.” Angie wrinkled her nose at the thought (then again, if she were ever going to be anyone’s kept woman she sure as hell wouldn’t mind being Peggy’s).

“Is that not what you are?” Peggy teased, not having missed the contempt in Angie’s voice.

Angie reached a hand back and swatted Peggy on the hip. “Thin ice English, thin ice,” she warned, though the smile in her voice was audible.

“You know sometimes the boys in the office talk about their wives having a scotch ready for them when they come home in the evening.” Peggy mused, slowly pulling Angie away from the hearth of the fire and out into the centre of the floor. “Just a suggestion.”

Angie tried push away the excited bubbling in her chest when she realised Peggy had just likened her to her wife. “You really are somethin’ else English,” she said instead, turning in Peggy’s embrace and winding her arms around her girlfriends neck. “Now how ‘bout you shut up and dance with me?”

Peggy pulled her closer and planted a lingering kiss into the corner of her mouth, pulling back for Angie to catch her wolfish grin and her dark, loving eyes. ‘To Each His Own’ by Eddie Howard came on then, and they began to sway in slow circles, never breaking eye contact as Peggy’s hands slid down to the dip of Angie’s ass and Angie allowed one hand to travel up into Peggy’s perfect curls, her nails clawing gently at her scalp.

The song was slow and sweet and neither made any effort to complicate their steps, following a simple 1, 2, 3 around the room, their bodies gradually pressing closer together until Angie could feel every rise and fall of Peggy’s chest against her own and their foreheads rested easily together.

“Y’know,” Angie murmured as the song began to fade out. “We should go dancin’ sometime.” Her words ticked across Peggy’s lips as her own floated only inches away.

“And yet here I am under the impression we already were dancing,” Peggy whispered back, her eyes closed and her body thrilling with the sensation of Angie pressed so close to her.

Angie tried not to sigh, tried not to let her disappointment show. “Y’know what I mean Peg. Proper dancin’.” She pulled her head back and watched Peggy slowly open her eyes and worry her lip between her teeth.

“You know-“ Peggy started, though Angie had heard it all before.

“That we can’t,” she finished, frustration ebbing into her tone in spite of her best efforts. “It’s too risky, and that even them clubs that do have our kinda dances are run by some not so nice people.” The excuse was like a broken record at this point.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy told her dipping her head, and Angie knew it was true, knew she was sorry and knew she wanted things to be different; it was just hard to hear all the time.

Still, ‘I Can’t Begin to Tell You’ by Bing Crosby was starting up on the radio and Angie was determine not to let her girlfriends stubbornness ruin the fun they’d been having. “You’re always sorry and I always forgive you,” she replied, lifting Peggy’s head and staring pointedly at her to let her know that would be the last word on the topic. “Now we gonna keep dancin’ or what, because I love this number.”

-.-.-.-

It was an exceedingly rare occasion that all the Howling Commandos were granted leave at the same time and an even rarer occasion that they all happened to be in New York or, more specifically, in Peggy and Angie’s living room. The mud on their boots was almost as thick as the drawl of their accents after a bottle and a half of brandy being shared out amongst them and if Peggy hadn’t been having so much fun she may have thought to clip Timothy around the side of the ear for putting his feet on the coffee table. It would just have to be something she’d clean in the morning though, for even if she’d wanted to right now her entire left side was being used to support Angie’s semi-conscious body.

Peggy had warned her not to try and keep up with the drinking of Dum Dum Duggan and her other friends though Angie had insisted that if Peggy could do it then so could she, completely failing to take into consideration Peggy’s years of practice when it came to vital war-time skills such as holding your liquor.

At first she’d managed to keep up quite nicely, though it was after her second things began to go downhill rapidly, and it was when Peggy noticed her trying to pour herself a shaky fifth glass she’d decided to intervene. The move had of course been met with protest something to the tune of “stupid English party pooper” though now Angie was nestled happily into Peggy’s side, laughing occasionally at the conversation going on around her to let Peggy know she hadn’t quite passed out yet.

For a minute Peggy was content in sipping her drink quietly, listing to Timothy and Gabe’s melodramatic (or so she was told) recount of their last mission – a large portion of which consisted of Duggan insisting it had been luck and nothing else that had allowed him to escape with his moustache still intact. Then she felt a light nudge on the shoulder that wasn’t supporting Angie’s head.

“So…” It was Pinky, his cheeks rosy from all the alcohol. “How you holdin’ up these days Peg?”

Peggy took a sip of her drink before replying, a smile curling the corners of her lips when she moved the glass away from her mouth. “Good,” she hummed as Angie shifted next to her. “I’m really good.”

She’d always had a soft spot for Pinky. Of course she got along with all the Howling Commandos and Timothy in particular, though there’d always been something about Pinky; she’d clicked with him from the start.

“And it’s just you and Angie in this place now?” He questioned; his voice ever so slightly lower than the other conversations around them.

“Yes, fortunately Howard has enough homes that we aren’t forced to share with him.” She shuddered at the thought.

Pinky nodded. “She seems like a great girl.” Pinky nodded to Angie and Peggy hummed her agreement.

For a second then he took a look in his eye like he wanted to say something big. The moment passed though thanks to a particularly loud laugh from Gabe that drew both Peggy and Pinky back to the main conversation.

-.-.-.-

The sun was threatening to rise by the time Peggy finally managed to shoo her friends out the front door, each of them staggering and muttering indignantly about her having enough beds to go around. She simply smiled and hailed them taxis, hugging each one in turn as they slipped into the two yellow cabs that had pulled up.

Pinky was last in line to be squeezed into the back seat and yet much to the dismay of his friends rather than simply hug Peggy he pulled her aside, just out of ear shot. “Listen Peg,” he started, and before he spoke Peggy could tell this was something he was only telling her because of the alcohol coursing through his veins. “You should look into the VBA if you ever get a chance…” he shrugged, more to himself than to her.

“VBA?” The letters rang no bells in Peggy’s head which was a surprise considering she knew just about every government and terrorist organisation out there, including the abbreviations they used.

“Yea,” Pinky nodded enthusiastically then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Veterans Benevolent Association. They’re good people; I go sometimes when I’m in town.”

Then he was hugging her and by the time what he’d said had fully registered in Peggy’s mind he was already half ways towards the waiting cab. “Hold on,” Peggy called, stopping him in his tracks. “Why are you telling me this?”

He turned and his smile was both knowing and sympathetic. “Because.” He shrugged vaguely. “Like I said, Angie seems like a great girl.” He turned again then, this time practically running to the cab door as Gabe threatened to shut it in his face.

For a second a knot of fear twisted in Peggy’s stomach as it always did when she felt someone might have guessed her and Angie’s situation. Usually she was wrong, a lot of the time it was merely another nightmare, though the look on Pinky’s face told her this was different; he knew her and Angie had a queer living arrangement, and if she wasn’t mistaken he seemed to support it.

She shook her head and turned back to the townhouse. The sun was about to rise and she still had to carry Angie to bed – the aspiring starlet having lost the fight with consciousness several hours ago. There were no enquiries that could be made into the VBA tonight, and anyway she was quite looking forward to lying down next to her girlfriend and allowing her body some well-deserved rest.

-.-.-.-

It was two weeks after their night in with the Howling Commandos that Peggy came home early from work, finding Angie curled up on her favourite armchair, her nose pressed into the pages of an Agatha Christie novel.

“You need glasses,” Peggy pointed out after a moment of standing in the doorway watching Angie read, causing her girlfriend to jump.

“What I need is for you to alert me of your presence sooner.” Angie fired back playfully. “Awe see now I’ve lost my place,” she added then with a sigh.

“Good,” Peggy hummed, striding across the room and plucking the book out of Angie’s hands. “You don’t have time to read it anyway.” She bit her lip and rolled a little on the balls of her feet, her excitement uncharacteristically palpable.

“Did the boys at the office put somethin’ funny in your tea English?” Angie enquired, although she stood out of the armchair anyway when Peggy offered her a hand.

“No, though I do have a surprise for you,” Peggy explained a little rushed, steering Angie towards their bedroom as she spoke. “Put on something nice,” she added once they got as far as their shared walk in closet.

“How nice we talkin’ here?” Angie inquired as she stepped into her half of the wardrobe, starting to feel giddy herself now thanks to her girlfriend’s oddly infectious good humour.

Peggy came up behind her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and one across her waist. “Whatever it is you’d wear if I took you dancing,” she told her before pressing a kiss behind Angie’s ear.

Angie spun so fast she had to grab one of the lapels of Peggy’s blazer to steady herself. “You serious Peg?” Her eyes lit up like Christmas trees and her smile was so broad Peggy was almost scared it would tear her cheeks.

“Well you wanted me to take you.” Peggy would have added a smirk to her statement for good measure, though Angie was already pulling Peggy down for a kiss that almost knocked them both over.

Both Angie’s hands bunched in Peggy’s blazer now, pulling her closer as she kissed her again and again, sloppy uncoordinated kisses that left Peggy outright giggling when Angie finally pulled away.

“Well,” Peggy chuckled. “If I’d known you’d react like that I’d have done this a lot sooner.”

“Peggy, honey,” Angie drawled, her hands now slowly smoothing back out Peggy’s lapels. “You take me dancin’ and it won’t just be your mouth these lips’ll be kissin’ t’night.”

-.-.-.-

Angie had been expecting more of a walk to get to whatever kind of place Peggy felt was safe enough for them to go dancing. To be honest she’d at least been anticipating them leaving the city, knowing all too well how hyper sensitive her girlfriends mind could be, having always figured it would be impossible for her to relax in any of the queer friendly joints Angie knew of – granted that could be at least in part due to them being mafia run establishments.

Angie was pleasantly surprised however when their taxi dropped them off in the Village, right outside the door of what looked to be a run-of-the-mill dance hall. “This it?” Angie questioned once Peggy had paid the driver.

“I believe so,” Peggy nodded, holding out her arm then for Angie to hook into. “Shall we?”

Once inside Angie could instantly tell there was something _different_ about this place. Not bad different either mind you, but definitely different. There were a lot of guys there for a start and yet not one head turned when her and Peggy stepped into the place.

Not that Angie was one for vanity, but the dress she’d chosen – a little mid-calf blue number pulled in to show off her waist – as well as the way she’d meticulously applied her make-up was at least deserving of a head turn. Hell, the slim fit red number Peggy had on her showed off almost an indecent amount of cleavage and Angie was _sure_ that was worth a few glances (even if she would deck anyone that dared look).

“Say uh, Peg?” Angie started as she allowed Peggy to lead her to a table where they could leave their things. “What kinda joint is this exactly?”

“It’s an establishment for veterans,” Peggy explained as she tossed down her bag on a seat. “Queer veterans,” she added after a beat, and if Angie had died right then and there she’d have died a happy woman just for seeing the unadulterated joy in her girlfriend’s eyes when she was finally able to let her guard down.

Angie nodded appreciatively then looked around again at the packed room. “Well then, lets show these fella’s how to cut a rug.” She winked then dragged a laughing Peggy out onto the floor just as the band began to ease into a slower number.

Instinctively Peggy took the lead, her hands fitting perfectly into the groove of Angie’s waist while Angie’s hands held loosely to Peggy’s shoulders, allowing the agent to swing her around their section of the floor. She could still tell Peggy was tense at first; even if this was a safe place for them she knew how hurt Peggy had been in the past, knew how difficult a concept it was for her to understand not everyone would hate them.

“You doin’ good Peg?” She whispered after a while, lifting one of her hands from Peggy’s shoulder to cup the side of her face and stroke her thumb across her cheek.

Peggy nodded then looked out across the ever filling dance floor, allowing herself a moment to realise no one was giving them a blind bit of notice. “Yes,” she replied finally, her eyes falling back on Angie. “I’m doing great.”

She wrapped her arms properly around Angie’s waist then and tugged her closer, allowing Angie to wrap her arms fully around Peggy’s neck and rest her head on her shoulder.

-.-.-.-

Later that night when Angie crawled up from between Peggy’s legs, pulling the blankets with her, and curled herself in against her girlfriends side Peggy made a mental note to kiss Pinky next time she saw him.

**Author's Note:**

> So yea in the 40s because homosexual activity was illegal the only bars/clubs that catered to lgbt people were mob/mafia run. The VBA however was incorporated in New York state in '47 making it totally legit and one of the first incorporated lgbt groups in the country. Also apparently their dances were popular not only within the lgbt community but also among heterosexual veterans (who often took their wives).


End file.
